


Make It Right For You

by Willowe



Series: automaton!AU [7]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, automaton Hamilton, automaton Philip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-15 09:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5780140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowe/pseuds/Willowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It has been a month since we suspected sentience,” Eliza tells him softly. “Mr. Church contacted my father, who in turn sent word to me. But he has only been here, in the house, for perhaps a week.”</p><p>A month, a solid month where Eliza knew of this automaton and was planning on… A month, and Alexander has to find out like this, after coming home in disgrace. “You should have told me,” Alexander says, staring down at the bed. A month since Eliza decided they would have a son, and Alexander did not know until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make It Right For You

**Author's Note:**

> Two things of possible interest:
> 
> 1) I've created a general informational guide to how automatons function in this AU that you can find [HERE](http://willowenigma.tumblr.com/post/139144538970/automaton-info-dump-for-my-au)  
> 2) I've also created small summaries of all the specific automatons that will be appearing in this AU. You can find that [HERE](http://willowenigma.tumblr.com/post/138948558445/some-info-on-various-automaton-characters-within) but be warned, **it does contain spoilers for future stories**
> 
> (I've also included more specific information on Philip in the notes at the end.)

Alexander stares down at the prone form lying on the bed, the covers pulled up over his chest as if he was merely sleeping. But the scattering of precise tools around the room and the glass eyes set carefully into paper sockets tell the truth- this is no human man but rather an automaton, like Alexander.

No. Not quite like Alexander. This one has delicate oil-paper skin stretched over an intricately carved wooden frame; a glance inside the still-open chest cavity reveals fine gears and what appears to be a mechanism intended to wind them up and give them their movement. Alexander is uncomfortably reminded of his many self-deprecating jokes where he compared himself to a well-made clock. They seem even less humorous when faced with an automaton built like this.

Eliza is still hovering nervously in the doorway and Alexander finally turns back around to face her. “How long…?” he begins to ask, but he doesn’t know how to end that question. _How long has he been in our home?_ and _How long has he been alive?_ both seem too accusatory somehow, but Alexander is at a complete loss here and does not know what to ask or how to respond.

“It has been a month since we suspected sentience,” Eliza tells him softly. “Mr. Church contacted my father, who in turn sent word to me. But he has only been here, in the house, for perhaps a week.”

A month, a solid month where Eliza knew of this automaton and was planning on… A month, and Alexander has to find out like this, after coming home in disgrace. “You should have told me,” Alexander says, staring down at the bed. A month since Eliza decided they would have a son, and Alexander did not know until now.

Eliza bites her bottom lip nervously, but there’s only a fiery resolve in her eyes as she explains, “I wrote to General Washington a month ago, begging him to send you home.”

No.

Alexander’s mind is startling, frighteningly blank. He has the brief thought that if Washington sent him home on Eliza’s request, perhaps the General can be persuaded to reinstate him… but he does not want to think about the possibility that Eliza is the cause of his dismissal, and his mind shies away from all those thoughts. “You should have told me,” he repeats, because he does not think he can find any other words at the moment.

“I won’t apologize,” Eliza tells him, chin raised in the sort of stubbornness that Alexander usually loves. “I knew that you would never leave the war until you had succeeded in your cause, but you need to be here as well, Alexander. Whatever the future holds, you deserve a chance to meet your son.”

“Even if the future holds only poverty, and I am unable to provide for our family?” Alexander asks bitterly. Without a strong military career to back him up, what hope does an automaton have in gaining any sort of meaningful employment after the war? How can he be expected to provide for Eliza- and now their _son_ \- without the means to advance his position in society?

“We don’t need riches, or a legacy, or anything like that,” Eliza says firmly. “If you could just stay here, with your family… If you could just let me in, and let me help you…” Eliza sighs and looks away, her gaze landing back on the still figure on the bed. On their son.

“I will not stand here and lie to you, and tell you that I fully understand the challenges you face, or the ambitions you have,” Eliza continues. “I know that you are fearful of what the future may hold, but I am not. I know you, Alexander, and I trust you even when you do not trust yourself. Just let me help you, however I can.”

Alexander doesn’t need to hear Eliza confess aloud that she does not understand his struggles- he’s known that ever since they first met, since she looked at him and refused to see an automaton at all. And Alexander has always loved that about her; simply knowing that she loves him unconditionally, despite the shortcomings of his creation, is a comfort on days when it feels like the whole world is against him. But now he finds, for the first time in their marriage, that he is struggling to find the words to explain the nuances of his existence to the one person who should understand him more than anyone else.

“There are things… certain realities of living as an automaton… that humans in general have difficulty understanding,” Alexander says slowly, choosing each word with care and precision. He needs to explain himself to Eliza, not insult her in some unintended way. “We are considered to be lesser than true humans, no matter our accomplishments or worth. Even if we prove ourselves a thousand times over, we will always be lesser. And those that associate with us are brought down as well. Were I a better man, perhaps I would have thought to spare you this degradation-”

“Don’t say that. Don’t stand there and imply that you wish you hadn’t…” Eliza cuts herself off before she can say anything further and looks away from Alexander, her mouth set in a thin, unhappy line.

This is exactly what Alexander was trying to avoid. He reaches out and gently touches Eliza’s wrist, redirecting her attention back to him. “I do not regret marrying you, not in the slightest,” he says firmly. “You have given me so much, and brought so much joy into my life that I do not know how I ever lived without you. Yes, perhaps a better automaton would not have even considered marrying a human. But I did, and if I am less wise for doing so then I do not care, for I am still infinitely happier for having done so.”

Eliza turns her wrist so she is instead holding Alexander's hand. He sees the tendons in her hand flex and assumes she has squeezed his hand, but he feels nothing. Not for the first time, he wishes that he was built with the capacity to register physical sensations.

But for now, he is simply glad to see Eliza smiling again as she says, “And I do not care what others may say about me. I love you, Alexander. The fact that we're both here and alive and well is enough for me.”

Alexander tells himself that any lingering frustrations with Eliza’s seeming lack of understanding are his fault. He’s too tired, in desperate need of another dose of whale oil after the long ride from Washington’s camp back home. He’s too emotionally worn out after his dismissal and suddenly finding out that he has gained an automaton son. He must not be explaining himself properly, but he does not try to find better words now. What would it achieve anyway, except to upset Eliza further or make her think that he does not want this son?

And how could he not want this son? Despite his shock, despite his concerns about what this would mean for Eliza’s reputation, how can he give up what is likely to be his only chance at having a son like him? To turn his back on this automaton now… it is utterly unthinkable to Alexander.

He reaches down and pulls the covers away from the automaton’s chest, further exposing the open cavity and delicate gears. Whoever has been working on him has clearly invested a considerable sum of money in making sure that he has only the best mechanical parts possible. The craftsmanship is of the highest order, everything carried out with the finest attention to detail. “Who has been working on him?” Alexander asks, finally looking back up at Eliza.

“A man hired by Mr. Church,” is her response. “The automaton was originally built to be a mechanical amusement. Once Mr. Church acquired it- him,” she corrects quickly. “-he made arrangements to modify the automaton so he could carry out basic chores. It was the contractor who suspected that full sentience had accidentally been achieved but Mr. Church did not consider himself equipped to raise, for lack of a better term, a sentient automaton. He had heard of our marriage, and thought we might be better suited to the task. My father has been paying for the work to be finished, and has been seeing to the legal arrangements to ensure our son’s sentience is recognized.”

Almost everything has already been taken care of, but Alexander cannot stop himself from pointing out, “He may not remain fully sentient though, or it may not be stable. Has your father taken that into account when making the necessary legal arrangements?”

“Yes, he has,” Eliza assures him. “Alexander, I do not care how sentient he is, if he has but a fraction of your intelligence or none at all. He is our son, and that is enough.”

Their son. Alexander still can’t quite believe it. “Our son,” he says aloud, already in love with the easy way the words fall from his tongue. Their son, and Eliza already loves him. Their son, who will already be legally accepted as a sentient person before he even awakes. Their son, who won’t have to face any of the struggles that Alexander faced growing up, who will know what it’s like to have a stable, loving family, who will never face the threat of destruction if Alexander has anything to say about it.

 _Their son_ , and Alexander will be here to greet him, like his mother was there to greet him when he first awoke.

For the first time, Alexander can see the wisdom in Eliza’s letter to Washington, even if that understanding doesn’t fully erase the pain of his dismissal.

There’s only one more question that Alexander has for Eliza now. “What is his name? Does he have one yet?”

Eliza shakes her head. “Mr. Church never gave him one, and I thought it best to wait for your arrival so we could decide on one together.” She hesitates for a moment before suggesting, “I thought perhaps you would want to name him after someone in your family…?”

Alexander is quick to shake his head. “No. No, I don’t believe we should.” He thinks of Peter and James, both dead and destroyed, and knows that those are not names he would pass on to any other automaton.

He looks back down at his not-yet conscious son. To Alexander’s mind he looks like Laurens, with his unruly dark hair and freckled cheeks, but when he considers the name _John_ as a possibility he just wants to laugh at the thought. No, that would not do at all.

“What about someone from your family? Your father, perhaps?” Alexander finally suggests. “It’s more than fitting, after all, considering all that he has done for our son so far.”

Eliza beams at him, and Alexander knows that he made the right decision. “That is perfect.” She smooths the covers back over Philip’s still body. “Philip. Our son.”

“Our son,” Alexander agrees. He doesn’t think he will ever tire of saying those words.

Eliza retires early that evening, after extracting a promise from Alexander that he will take a dose of his whale oil at some point that night and join her in their bed. He knows that he needs to take rest as well, but now that the shock of returning home to find that he has an automaton son is starting to fade away he realizes that he is loath to leave Philip’s bedside. He doesn’t know how to describe the emotions inside him. It’s not pride, not quite, but something more- something almost akin to wonder and awe at the fact that he has a son who will be an automaton like himself.

Alexander wants to shout his joy from the rooftops, wants to tell the entire world about the son that he has found beyond all hope. He settles instead for picking up a pen and drafting a letter to Laurens, letting him know not only of his safe arrival but also telling him about Philip. He is just finishing describing the startling similarities between his son and Laurens _(Truly, my dear friend, you will have to travel North and come pass judgement for yourself, as well as properly meet my Eliza…)_ when a soft noise draws his attention away from his writings.

It’s the sound of something scratching against cloth, and at first Alexander thinks that a mouse or some other such pest has gotten into the house. It is only when Alexander happens to glance at the bed, that he realizes what has actually occurred: Philip is awake, and in his attempts to move has only succeeded in dragging his fingers across the top of the blanket that’s covering him.

Alexander knows that this sudden consciousness will not last long and he’s quick to move so that he is within Philip’s line of sight, since it is unlikely that his son is capable of doing more than continuing to twitch his fingers at the moment. When Philip catches sight of him his eyes widen in surprise, and Alexander can see him struggle to raise his hand. Alexander reaches down and grabs it gently, so Philip does not have to struggle to reach for him.

“Hello, son.” He has to resist the urge to pitch his voice low; for all he knows, Philip could have limited hearing and he wants his son to hear his voice. “Your name is Philip. You are an automaton, like myself. I’m going to be your father, Philip. I am going to take care of you.”

He sees Philip’s mouth move, but no words come out and he cannot make out what his son is trying to say before the light fades from his eyes and he slips back into unconsciousness once more.

It’s only after Alexander tries to let go of Philip’s hand that he realizes that Philip had been squeezing his hand, the limb now locked in a vice grip around his own.

Alexander knows that it’s not uncommon for automatons to have brief periods of consciousness before their sentience is fully established, and he also knows from experience that it is unlikely that Philip will remember this encounter. But he will never forget the way Philip’s face lit up when he saw Alexander, as if he knew the significance of their brief meeting. Alexander could well be the first automaton that Philip has ever seen, and he acutely feels the weight of the responsibility that he has undertaken.

He told Philip that he was going to take care of him, and even if Philip will never remember hearing those words Alexander has every intention of doing just that. But how can he truly take care of Philip if he cannot guarantee his safety, and how can he guarantee his safety unless he is in a position to enact real change for the benefit of all automatons?

How can Alexander possibly be in such a position, unless…?

He hesitatingly reaches for a fresh piece of paper. He told Eliza that he would join her and take his rest tonight. She went through the trouble to get him home, and he knows what she would think of this plan.

But if it means being able to help Philip…

His mind is made up. He grabs the sheet of paper, pushing aside his unfinished letter to Laurens and picking up his pen once more.

He must write to Washington, requesting his reinstatement, at once.

**Author's Note:**

> Some more notes on automaton!Philip:
> 
> -He is much more delicately built than Alexander, with a wooden frame and water-proofed paper skin. He still has gears and cogs to give him movement, like Alexander does, but rather than drinking whale oil he runs more like a clock- he has to wind himself up to make sure everything keeps moving. (If you want to make yourself sad, imagine the type of damage a bullet can do to wood and paper vs a solid metal frame and cry with me about having to kill off this sweet child.)
> 
> -Philip isn't completely aware of his surroundings at this point, as he's not fully built and fully sentient yet. (This is my attempt to adhere to the musical's timeline. Philip isn't really "born" yet, in the sense that he's not retaining memories or really capable of moving on his own yet.) Once he's fully built, he'll actually start learning and "growing".
> 
> -Automatons don't physically grow, but their mental capacities develop slowly over time (for the sentient ones, at least). Philip right now looks like he could be 19-20, but mentally he is very much a child and still has to "grow up" in that sense. 
> 
> Also, Philip is going to be the only automaton Hamilton child. The rest of them are going to be human children that Alexander and Eliza adopts (though I don't know if I'll end up writing about any of them).


End file.
